


Backseat Driver

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brothers grim, Drunk Sex, M/M, Underage Drinking, adoptive incest, armpit kink briefly, blatant consent while sober, happy birthday bee, little brother kink, psuedo incest, this is a birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 06:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: Brothers Grim outtake written for unlockedlips.“I wanna get you drunk and fuck you in the car.”





	Backseat Driver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unlockedlips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlockedlips/gifts).

> Not a part of the Brothers Grim series but a little outtake written for my first fandom friend. 
> 
> Happy (late) birthday B!

Diego puts him in the car with very little pretense. Just a smile on his face. He’s got his jacket on - the leather one, and Ben...Ben doesn’t hate it. He has to admit his curiosity, though. He and Diego don’t go out much, and never without Klaus. But it’s hard to worry when Diego’s stretching his arm across the bench seat, so he can brush his fingers through the hair where it curls behind Ben’s neck. 

They drive through the city, and Diego doesn’t mind when Ben doesn’t speak, doesn’t fill the silence the way Klaus might. He lets Ben stare out the window, at every passing person, dog and car, until all the colors blur in a watercolor whirl. It’s strange to sit in the front seat, seat belt biting into his neck. Strange, but good, with Diego’s calloused fingertips pressed against his pulse. Ben’s never really taken himself anywhere. He’s not sure he’d know where he’d go if he had the chance. He’s not sure he knows how to  _ be  _ alone. 

Diego pulls into the back alley of a rough-looking building and leads Ben through a door that says Exit Only. “It’s cool,” he murmurs, when Ben stops short, feet scraping in the gravel. “I know the owners.” 

It’s a  _ bar _ , and Ben is momentarily thrown. He’s--- he’s been in bars. He’s followed behind Klaus, into bars. But not bars like this, with dim lighting, and chipped pool tables, booths and barstools and beer on tap. Klaus liked clubs, and bars with loud, thumping music. DJ’s and house music. Neon colored mixed drinks and meaty, handsy bouncers. This is very much a Diego Bar, and Ben feels out of place, even as he’s lead into a booth right near the bar. “I’m gonna grab a drink. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” 

_ Where would I go _ , Ben thinks, but the thought feels wrong. He  _ could  _ go, and it’s such a novelty. He could walk out the door and go anywhere. Home. Not home. Anywhere. And it’s such a novelty, it’s such a strange and foreign thing, that Ben feels suddenly big and small at once. Where would he go? Klaus is at work, and Diego is here, and Ben doesn’t really want to be anywhere else. Diego slides back into the booth, beside Ben, a few minutes later, with what looks like two cokes in hands. “Drink,” he murmurs, sliding a damp, lowball glass the table. 

Ben does without thinking. Obedient.  _ Good _ . He sputters, eyes watering as he lets his throat roll on a second, sputtering gulp. “Shit. What is this?” 

“Shhh. It’s whiskey and coke. I’d have ordered you something lighter, but no one here would believe I’d drink cranberry and vodka,” Diego laughs, patting him on the back. “First time, Benny?” 

“We use to steal dad’s brandy, but that’s about it,” Ben admits, thinking back about how...how maybe if he’d told Klaus no, things would be different. But those thoughts serve no purpose and they’re here now, and here is good. “What’s yours?” 

“Just Coke.” He takes a sip of his own. “I’m driving.” 

“Eeeeey, Diego!” A hand comes down so hard on their table, Ben almost startles himself invisible, but Diego’s there, with his hand under the table, gripping Ben’s thigh and it’s very hard to want to be anywhere else when you’re in Diego’s grip. “Ain’t seen you in a minute. What are you up too, then?” 

“Just stopped by to see Austin’s show,” Diego tells him, with an easy grin, bringing his arm back up to wrap around Ben. He ruffles Ben’s hair, but he leaves his arm, a casual weight, and deep comfort. “This is my little brother, Benny.” 

Ben goes...Ben goes very, very hot at the words, and he’s sure his face is pink. He takes a sip of his drink just to have something to look at that isn’t a stranger. 

_ This is my little brother.  _

_ My little brother.  _

_ Little brother.  _

  
  


“Oh yeah I can see the resemblance,” the man laughs, and Ben sinks a little bit into his hoodie. He doesn’t like to be laughed at. Diego---Diego really doesn’t like to be laughed at. So Ben braces himself, for the steel-curl spine of Diego’s ego. 

But Diego just leans into him, and his smile never changes. “It’s called adoption, Buck. We’re a regular fuckin’ rainbow family.” 

Easy as that. No prickle. No pout. And it’s like seeing a whole different Diego. Ben knows he shouldn’t stare at him like he is, but he can’t help it. It’s like meeting him all over for the first time

“I won’t keep ya. Just came by to say hi.”He slaps Diego on the shoulder again, rattling him. Ain’t none of us had to arrest you in a while, bud. We’ve missed ya. Nice to see you’re hanging up the harness.” 

“And who says I am?” He leans back in the booth, sprawling, and Ben’s forced back to lean too. “Ain’t my problem if you’re getting old. You never could keep up.” Diego reaches out and pats the man’s belly, and Ben braces himself---

But the man just laughs. 

“It’s good to see you, Di.” 

And these are normal people. Doing normal things. Having a drink on a Thursday night. Coming to your friend's show. Catching up with old coworkers. These are normal people - with normal goddamn lives. They’re not special, they’re not strange. They weren’t raised like soldiers, they weren’t raised like mice. They’ve always had names; they’ve never had numbers. They probably have parents named Nancy and Steve. They probably worry about going grey - the probably assume they’ll make it that far in life. 

Diego had this. Diego  _ has  _ this. 

“They’re your friends from the police academy,” Ben guesses, picking the straw out of his drink and laying it on a napkin. He likes the way the ice feels between his teeth, the crunch and give and snap. 

“Some of em,” Diego admits, watching with rapt attention as Ben drinks. “I wanna get you drunk and fuck you in the car.” 

This time, when he sputters, it’s not the alcohol. Ben blinks wildly, eyes watering, as he sets his glass back on the table. “I---Yeah. Yes.  _ Okay _ .” Though his words are well times, and there’s heat in his eyes, Diego’s really asking for permission. He’s asking for  _ consent _ . 

“Yeah?” He picks the glass back up and pushes it into Ben’s hand. “Drink up, Benny.” 

“Who’s Austin,” he asks, tilting the glass so he can finish it in three easy gulps. The burn in his throat is new, but the burn in his brain is not. 

Diego snorts, but his eyes follow Ben’s mouth as he licks the last of the whiskey from his lips. “A garage band yuppie who writes reports from eight am to five pm and plays Greenday cover songs in shitty bars on the weekend. And has been known to reduce my bail on the occasion that such a thing is necessary,” Diego turns a bit in the booth, “Hey, hey Bee! Get me another, yeah?” 

“Eat my ass, Di!” The bartender tells him from behind the bar, but she’s already pouring. 

“Yeah? And what would Kaytlyn say?” Diego’ grin is bright and boyish, and Ben...Ben feels a little breathless. Could be the whiskey, but it’s probably Diego’s hand where it lay casually against his collar bone. No one says a thing, no one finds it odd. Ben’s not a ghost here. He’s just a little brother, sipping Coke in a corner booth and looking at his big brother like he hung the fucking sun. 

Rounding the bar, she slams the drink down. “She’d tell you to  _ eat my fucking ass _ .” 

Diego blows her a kiss. “Hey now. Not in front of my baby brother yeah? Virgin ears.” He cups a hand over Ben’s ear and pulls him tight into his chest. “ _ He’s never been with a woman _ ,” he pretends to whisper, while Ben struggles to free himself. 

“ _ Diego _ .” And just like that - just like that - Ben’s ready to leave. Half for embarrassment and a half to cash in on Diego’s intentions for the night. Virgin ears.  _ Fuck you _ , Ben thinks, because Diego learned from the best how to make Ben squirm. Klaus would be thrilled.

“You want me to beat him up, kid?” Bee asks and honest-to-God, Ben’s dick jumps as he watches her mouth form the word kid and it’s just not fair. It’s just not  _ fair _ . She’s pretty, and he’s conditioned. 

“No,” Ben mutters, elbowing Diego sharply in the ribs. “But if he doesn’t want me to talk about the time he got stuck in the---” 

Diego slaps his hand over Ben’s mouth so hard, Ben wonders if there’ll be a mark. It shouldn’t thrill him, it shouldn’t make his thighs clench. “Yeah. Alright. Point taken.” 

Bee laughs and snatches up the empty glass without another word. 

It’s weird to see Diego like this. He looks at home, blending effortlessly into the tore-up vinyl seating. The dim lighting flatters his skin and hides his scars and no one looks twice at the knives in his belt, or the boy up under his arm. This was his life before they all came back and the world ended, only to start back up. This was the life he built himself, and Ben thinks it might have been a good one. 

And he wants to share it with Ben. That’s what this is. 

And Ben  _ wants  _ it. 

He’s reaching for the drink, even as Diego steals the straw, and Ben drinks without breathing, downing it all at once. A thin line escapes at the corner of his mouth, burning a cold trail down his throat and Ben only stops when he’s finished, on a quiet gasp. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Diego sounds whiskey-rough, and Ben...Ben wonders how long he’ll have to sit here and pretend like he isn’t hard for his brother. 

The answer is an hour and thirty-seven minutes. And three more drinks. 

Ben’s feeling it, a liquid slippery syrup feeling that settles in a froth in his belly and brain. He can see how Klaus would like it - all the edges of the world are blurred and faint. He is only who he is right now, in that moment, and Diego feels so good, with his hands all over him. He smells like leather, and sweat and the oil he uses when he sharpens his blades. He feels weak, and loose-limbed, not at all like being high. When he’s high - he’s floating. But this - this is a weighted feeling, like a warm blanket on a winter night. 

Their booth fills and empties with every passing song. Men that slap Diego’s shoulder with rough, and friendly palms, women who coo at Ben like he’s a child because he looks like a child, all tucked up under his big brother's arm. 

“Awww,” a young blonde woman says, a smile curling up both corners of her mouth. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing. I didn’t know you had a brother Di! You’re so tight with your personal life. So boring. So brooding.” 

“Ain’t no good mixing business with personal life,” Diego grins and Ben lets a hand wander under the table, nails picking at the seam of his jeans where it lays across his inner thigh. “But he’s been begging to tag along forever.” 

Ben - Ben scowls, and lets his nails bite deeper into Diego’s thigh. Diego only laughs and moves his hand to ruffle Ben’s hair and the touch makes him hot, the teasing tone a soft sort of cruelty that makes him hard instead of angry. God - he’s spent too much time with Klaus and Diego. They’ve made him  _ weird _ . 

“Well, I better get him home. It’s a weeknight; kiddo has school.” He slides out of the booth and fishes his wallet from his pocket so he can drop a random assortment of bills onto the table. “C’ mon Benny, it’s past your bedtime.” 

“You gonna tuck him in too, boss?” One of Diego’s friends asks, with a grin, and Ben swallows, feeling stupid and young. Feeling, very much, sixteen. 

(And for all that it’s not a good feeling....tonight it hasn’t been so bad.)

Diego shrugs and throws his arm back over Ben’s shoulders. Brother’s aren’t really this tactile, Ben doesn’t think. But what the hell does he know? “Maybe I will.” 

***

Diego parks by the docks, where it’s quiet save for the cars passing beyond the warehouses, and the waves slapping against rock and metal. Diego has Ben in his lap in the backseat, shoes somewhere in the front, and pants hanging off the steering wheel. He feels strange, like his limbs, are too long for the rest of his body, like the world might pull him apart. But Diego has his hands on him, all firm and rough, and he’s kissing up ben’s neck, and Ben’s whiskey-slick and sloppy with it. The rolls of his hips long and drawn and his arms feel weak, but Diego’s feel strong where they’re wrapped around his ribs and holding on so hard it hurts. “Fuck fuck fuck,” Diego mutters, kissing every inch he can reach. Ben can’t---he never knows where to put his fucking hands and he can’t get the leverage he wants to really  _ grind _ the way that makes Diego curse and fuck up into in jerky, harsh thrusts. He can’t quite get into a rhythm, can’t quite get his limbs to do what he wants. He spreads his thighs wider, lets himself drop and it’s good---God, it’s good. Helpless, desperate, weak-limbed and drunk, he stretches and curls, bracing his forearms up against the ceiling of the car and Diego---

Diego fucking  _ wails _ , surging forward to lick up Ben’s chest. He bounces him in his lap like he’s nothing at all, like Ben isn’t mostly grown and tangible. All Ben has to do is hold himself up, through the white-water rapids of his own spinning mind, he can do it, he  _ can _ , because the world feels so good, all soft and out of focus. Ben just wants---he just wants to lick Diego’s face, and so he does and Diego sobs, chasing after Ben’s tongue, where it’s dragging through his beard and he sort of gets why Klaus likes this so much (licking Diego, not being drunk, although, very guiltily, he understands that too), it feels good, where it crackles over his skin. He bounces him, fucks up into him and holds him down, while Ben pushes into it, grinding his cock against Diego’s taught belly. It’s messy and stupid and his calves burn, and his arms ache but God---

It’s good. It’s good, and Diego looks so fucking helpless where Ben looks at him with glassy, blurry eyes. “I can’t--- can’t---I’m sorry---” he slurs, feeling weird and wild and out of control. “I---I--- _ fuck _ , I’m actually drunk. Christ. ” 

“Can I--- I just want to---- _ fuck _ .” And Ben’s not expecting it when Diego takes full advantage of Ben’s raised arms and licks a hotline straight up his armpit. 

It was---

It’s not something he expects to feel in his balls, but God he does and Diego doesn’t  _ stop  _ and Ben can’t---his head is spinning and he feels so weak, and he’s not fucking Diego anymore - Diego’s fucking him down on his own cock, and it’s filthy, the helpless way his body allows the abuse and the frighteningly good friction against his cock, where it’s leaking a steady stream of precome right over Diego’s belly button. “Di---e--- _ go _ ,” he cries, wrapping his arms around Diego’s head, fingers digging hard into his hair. “Oh,  _ God _ .” 

Diego gets his hands on Ben’s ass, lifting him up like he’s nothing at all and he feels small. He feels exactly like a little brother shouldn’t, and he comes as Diego forces him down hard and deep, kissing his open mouth and swallowing up Ben’s cries. 

He doesn’t stop when Ben goes limp and breathless, curled over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop licking and kissing, spit soaking his chin, sticky and wet where it smears across Ben’s ribs. He doesn’t stop even when Ben hiccups, toes curling hard into his thighs. 

Diego could go all night, and Ben could let him. 

But he wants so badly to make Diego come, so he can feel as good as Ben does. It’s something he always wants, and something he thinks about a little too often. “Please,” he says, and the words are heavy, slipping slow and sweet from his mouth. He presses them to Diego’s throat, scraping his teeth against the stubble there. “Please, please, I’ll--- I wanted you to fucking touch me at the bar, I got so hard when you told them I was your brother when you told them I was a fucking  _ virgin  _ when you said---when you said--- I’ve never been with a woman. God, please Diego. Please, please --- I just---I just really---” and he forgets what he’s going to say before he can finish, loses the thought to whiskey and middle finger slipping into his ass right alongside Diego’s dick. “Fuck---Fuck---” 

“One day Klaus and I are both gonna fuck you,” Diego tells him, and Ben starts  _ crying _ , in these broken, helpless sobs and he’s too sensitive to get hard again, his skin feels raw, but he fucking wants it. “ _ Shit---oh _ fuck Benny. Shit. I’m gonna---Fuck---Baby, baby,  _ baby _ . I’m gonna---” And Ben feels it when he comes, the hot rush as it drips down his balls and his brain’s so fucking fuzzy, and his body so soft, and Diego’s kissing his face. He makes no move, doesn’t ease Ben up or away. He holds him down, firmly in place, even as he grows semi-soft and Ben feels...Ben feels so tired and so good. He could sleep like this, right where he’s at, in the mess Diego’s made of them. 

“You did---You did so good baby, God. Benny, Benny ---  _ fuck _ . You did so good.” 

“I didn’t---I didn’t do anything,” Ben slurs, letting his forehead come to rest against Diego’s shoulder. “I just let you fucking---fucking use me.” 

Diego laughs, a breathless, helpless noise that he kisses into Ben’s damp collar bone. “Yeah, and  _ you did so good _ .” 


End file.
